The Plague Doctor's Notebook
by Sinbad le Marin
Summary: UPDATED! (Chapter 1 fixed) My entry for the Balthy 100. An anthology of everything from short stories, scripts, poems, ballads, crossovers, AHs, maybe drawings, and other things following events before and after the events of the movie. Why plague doctors? Read on to find out! (Rated T, but the stories vary in maturity. Nothing overly sexual, just darker themes).
1. 1 Arcana Cabana

1\. Arcana Cabana 

The Tenth of February

Anno Domini Eighteen-Hundred Eighty Eight

Balthazar forced the grimhold into an upper shelf, almost breaking it in his anxiety. He had finally found him. Finally imprisoned him. Now that Horvath was out of the way he could focus all his energy on finding the Prime Merlinian. He was so close he could smell it. All he had to do now was blend in. And wait.

The Cabana didn't have electricity. Its only light came from oil lamps lining the walls. Balthazar should take care of that one day. He had the money. He could risk exposure. Horvath couldn't escape. He was fine. He had a steady business while other workers were dirt poor. Life couldn't get better than this.

Balthazar had to calm down. His whole life, he had more than one thing on his mind to worry about. Now that he took care of one, he missed the feeling. He had to get his mind off of things.

There were still boxes to unpack. He shuffled over to the storage closet and took a knee. Some crucifixes, a watch, a Chinese tea kettle. He stuffed them back into the closet. Another box with some brooches and a box of dominoes underneath the desk. And then, at the bottom of it all, he found the mask.

It was fraying apart at the edges. Still corpse white underneath, but drenched in dust. Balthazar could still smell the incense he had stuffed in the beak from all those years ago. That stench churned his stomach. The glass eyes stared at him, as if they were waiting for him to scream. He was almost too scared to touch it, as if it would cause flashbacks.

Just as he was entranced by it, the doors creaked open. Balthazar quickly got up, inadvertently dropping the mask on the floor. A wealthy young man, neatly dressed with a snow-covered hat. Clean shaven, perhaps a student. He wished Balthazar a good afternoon, and then walked around the store for a few minutes.

"Is there anything I can help you with sir," He asked, praying he got the syntax of the times right.

"My mother's birthday is next week. She simply adores antique jewelry, so I was wondering if you had anything special. Something genuine."

Balthazar nodded and presented the brooches from under the desk. "These come from the 1700s. Some say they were made for English royalty, but more likely for wealthier families."

"This is perfect. Is it expensive?"

"Two hundred and fifty dollars."

"And it's genuine?"

"Swear'd I.. excuse me. I would swear by it."

"Well… it is for my mother."

As he produced the payment, Balthazar watched his eyes fall to the floor.

"Pardon me for asking, but is that a Plague Doctor's mask?

Balthazar swallowed. "It is."

"How much does it cost?"

He could sell it. It would release a weight from his shoulders. It would help him forget all the death he saw and all the fake cures the Church forced him to use. He could sell it.

"I am sorry, it is not for sale. It is being sent out for repairs soon, in fact."

He couldn't. It would be like selling a piece of his soul.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Perhaps next time."

Balthazar nodded as the man left with his gift. He grabbed the mask by the straps and stuffed it into the desk. Whether he liked it or not, he had to keep his memories in the Cabana. Sell the things that weren't truly valuable. He wished he could forget, but he knew the inevitable. He, his memories, and his mission would poison him and never die.

A/N: I've had the idea for a Balthy 100 for a long time. Which explains why I'm writing this at a time where this movie has become even more irrelevant than it was when it came out. Being my favorite movie as a kid (and still one of my favorite movies today - fight me), I decided that this would be a good format for a mature series of short anythings (see the description for this fic). Even though this story's not the best, I'll do my best to update when I can and stay in order of the Balthy 100 list. That being said, I'm excited for the next stories and hopefully you'll stick around for the ride. Thanks for reading!

-Sinbad


	2. 2 Trousers

2- Trousers (pants)

January 19th, 2000

FADE IN

INT SCHOOL BUS-DAY

MRS. ALGAR's fourth grade class is climbing onto the BUS, all laughing or trying to get there things together. They all gravitate away from DAVE STUTLER, the only kid whose crotch area is darker than the rest of his pants. He sits near a WINDOW with a doodle of King Kong. A red-haired boy, ROBBIE, looks around for another seat, then reluctantly sits down next to STUTLER while trying to keep his distance.

DAVE

Jeez, my pants are so sticky. (BEAT). Robbie, please say something to me. I hate this awkward silence.

ROBBIE

(grumbling)

Isn't silence better than all this laughing?

DAVE

Great, even you're against me.

The BUS starts moving.

ROBBIE

I'm not against you. I don't want to be, I mean. But I'm the one sitting next to the pants-pisser,

no offense.

DAVE

Is that what they're calling me now?

ROBBIE

Not necessarily.

DAVE

Please don't make fun of me, Robbie. I saw what I saw. I don't care what anybody else says, there

were-

ROBBIE

I know, I know. Crazy wizard guys.

DAVE

It was true, though. I'm not crazy, I saw it with my own eyes. You know I wouldn't make this

stuff up!

MRS. ALGAR is sitting at the front of the bus. She turns around and faces the boys.

MRS. ALGAR

No shouting on the bus!

DAVE

Sorry, Ms. A.

MRS. ALGAR

I think I've heard enough apologies from you, Mr. Stutler. Whisper or don't converse at all.

BEAT.

ROBBIE

What, you want me to believe that two magicians

were trying to kill you? And that in the middle of

all this a _jar_ fell exactly where your crotch is?

DAVE

Well… yeah.

ROBBIE rolls his eyes. BEAT.

ROBBIE

Dave, you ever heard of Schiznorena?

DAVE

No. What is that?

ROBBIE

It's this disease that makes you see things that aren't really there. I read about it somewhere. Can't exactly remember where, though.

DAVE

Oh, you mean Schizophrenia? That's not a disease, that's a mental disorder.

ROBBIE

Well, maybe you have that.

DAVE

You... you think I have a mental disorder?

ROBBIE

Well, if you're not lying about what happened in that shop it's the only explanation.

DAVE

I'm pretty sure I don't have Schizophrenia. It usually doesn't even set in until you become a teenager.

ROBBIE

I dunno. Maybe you caught it early.

DAVE

Robbie, look, I got cut with some glass right here. And a piece of my pants ripped off.

DAVE rolls up his pant sleeve.

DAVE (cont'd)

I didn't have it before today. How do you explain that?

ROBBIE

Maybe you cut your pants before and didn't realize.

DAVE

I'm telling you, a jar fell on me-

ROBBIE

But how would you really know if you had Schiznorena?!

MRS. ALGAR

Robert!

ROBBIE

Sorry, Ms. A.

DAVE

It's pronounced Skits-O-Fren-Ee-Ya.

ROBBIE

That's not the point. You could be talking to a purple giraffe right now and not know it wasn't me.

DAVE

Are you a purple giraffe?

ROBBIE

You could be talking to your mom. Heck, you could be talking to no one. The point is, you wouldn't know for sure. And since you were the only person in the store, it's the only explanation.

BEAT. Dave considers this.

DAVE

Well, sometimes there _have _been cases of young people getting

Schizophrenia.

ROBBIE

See? I'm not crazy to think that.

DAVE

But what if it keeps happening to me? I mean, seeing things I don't know are real. You're right, I could be talking to nothing and I wouldn't know it. Everyone would laugh at me.

ROBBIE

No they wouldn't-

DAVE

Yes they would! Nobody would understand.

BEAT

DAVE (cont'd)

Robbie, I have to transfer schools.

ROBBIE

What're you talking about?

DAVE

There are special schools where people with mental disorders are put together. Where they help you out with that stuff.

ROBBIE

Come on, you're exaggerating.

DAVE

I'm completely serious.

ROBBIE

You could fix it, though. Train not to see those things-

DAVE

Robbie, Schizophrenia's more serious than that. People go insane from it. Do dangerous things. The worst thing I did today was wet my pants. Imagine what could happen if I don't take care of it.

ROBBIE

Well, could we still see each other if you would move schools?

DAVE

Of course.

ROBBIE

Oh. If that's the case, then do whatever floats your boat. If more people will understand you there, I mean.

DAVE

I'll talk about it with my mom. See what she says.

ROBBIE

You really think this is a good idea?

DAVE glances across his seat. BECKY is laughing with a friend, completely oblivious to DAVE's conversation.

DAVE

(heartbroken)

One hundred percent.


	3. 3 Shoes

3\. Shoes

January 19th, 2010

Today I'm a lightning rod.

No padding for me today, no sir. Part of some special training Balthazar came up with. Something about building up strength or mindset. Or some other Confucian piece of wisdom.

Balthazar hits me again with a spark from the coil behind me. Somehow it sends me flying. Jesus, how much current is the old man using? The coils can only handle 500,000 volts; any more and they'll short-circuit.

"I won't always be here to tell you what to do," Balthazar shouts from the balcony. "You have to be ready for anything when you're in combat."

"Yeah, because every sorcerer can conjure Tesla coils and a wall outlet."

"You're hilarious, David."

I scramble to my feet. Brush off some burnt flannel. Ignore the old man's sarcasm.

"Every sorcerer has his own strength," Balthazar continues, "If an opponents is shooting plasma bolts or electricity at you, the only way to match skill with that sorcerer is to use that strength against the opponent."

"And how exactly do I do that?"

Another bolt hits me. Somehow, I know it missed my liver by a hair. "Figure it out."

Figure it out. Figure it out. Why should I figure it out? This isn't rocket science, it's self defense. There's literally a guidebook for everything! Who cares if I can't read the Incantus? There are pictures. I'm sure they have something about fending off lightning.

The coil in front of me is firing up. I prepare to defend myself. Suddenly, the coil to my right knocks me to the ground again. My ears start ringing. I shouldn't be doing this. I should be focusing on my work, not submitting myself to electrocution.

"Balthazar-"

"I'll give you a hint," he says.

"I don't want hints, I want out."

He pauses. Fires up another coil. I shriek like a wimp land on my shoulder. "You'll have out if you get through this. The hint is this: you don't just have to use your shoes to direct current."

Jesus Christ, does this guy care about _anything_ I say? Of course not, he's trying to frickin kill me. Fine. I'll play the game, Balthazar. What was the hint again? The shoes. The old man shoes. Why _did_ he give them to me? Something about looking classy. And conducting current. But electricity goes to the ground through the shoes. How does conducting current help me in this situation? I'm certainly not projecting any electrical energy through frickin _shoes_. I could, maybe, if I had a power source like a wall outlet. I'd love to be a coil right now.

Wait, the coils. Wall outlets. They're all around me. And there are exposed wires all over the ground, too. Is he saying…

"You want me to be a human Tesla coil?"

"I dunno. Do I?"

Balthazar shoots another bolt at me. It hits me, but it doesn't knock me to the ground. It slithers through my body and escapes through my feet. I swear to God I felt the current pass through my heart. But it should have killed me. But it didn't kill me. Another bolt hits me. This time it passes through my intestines.

"I'm shooting 1,000 volts at you and you're just standing there?"

"You're only using 1,000? It feels like 80,000!"

"God gave you magic. Use it already."

A blue light hints at the corner of my eye. The bolt hits me in the shoulder. I don't freak out. If the electricity can hit me and escape through the ground, maybe I can draw it from the ground too. I focus on the inside of my body. The current disguises itself in my nerves, travels through my circulatory system and tries to escape through the capillaries in my feet. I stop the electrons on their path before they reach the floow. Take them on a detour route up my body, closer and closer to my heart until-

I cough electricity. Streaks of lightning stream out from my ring. My eyes are splitting open. The inside of my body is on fire. Everything is white and purple and blue. _What the hell am I doing to myself?_

I fall to my knees and gasp for air. Will myself not to faint. Balthazar rushes over. Puts a hand on my head. My body cools down. My blood stops boiling. I can feel my tongue again.

"Whuh happnd?" I muster.

"I know what you were trying to do. Maybe I wasn't clear when I was talking about using the other person's strength to your advantage. It's my fault."

"What did I do?"

"You electrocuted yourself. The current didn't reach your organs, but it hit the water in your blood vessels. The electricity almost exploded out of you."

I breathe and shake my head. I electrocuted myself? That's something a cartoon character would do. And me, a twenty year old dweeb. A pathetic excuse for a sorcerer. I sit down and rip off the old man shoes.

"It's a miracle you're alive," Balthazar fails to assure me. "You did the right thing by trying to take out the-"

"I never do the right thing! I nearly killed myself! Not the Tesla coils, me! The idiot known as Dave Stutler."

"If you're an idiot why are you here? If an idiot were standing in your place I'd be pondering where to bury him. You're alive because of what you did-"

"Sure, sure. Try in vain to get my confidence up, Mister Master-not-Mentor."

"No. You don't interrupt me when I'm in the middle of my train of thought. If you have something to say you wait until I finish."

"See? You're angry at me! I'm angry at myself too! We finally both agree on something."

"I'm not angry at you. You shouldn't be angry at yourself, either. I don't know how many times I have to drill this into your head, but you did beautifully. Mistakes happen."

"Not near-fatal ones," I grumble.

Balthazar sighs. Checks the clock on the wall. "I think that's enough for today. Your emotions are getting the best of you. Try to get some work done. Take a walk. Just get your mind off of this."

"I think I'm gonna go back to my apartment. Bennett probably needs help doing laundry."

"Good idea. You do that."

The subway ride is silent. I stare at the empty orange and yellow seats in front of me. I was an idiot. I should have just stayed a lightning rod and let the old man shoes save me from certain death. Wow. Even old shoes can protect me more than I could ever protect myself.


End file.
